“You’re safe with me.”
I could feel his breath seize. “Before I killed my uncle, Alphonse. Percy’s father.”
Something raw and terrified manifested in his expression as I took a step back, but I kept a hand on him, waiting for explanation.
“My uncle resented the merger. It contributed to his lost claim to the throne, but you would never know the extent of his hatred for my parents, for me,” Nicolas said, his voice catching. He swallowed. “He was a doting uncle.. The man brought me gifts, spent time teaching me all there was to know about statecraft. I learned the stories of our family’s history from him. My parents and I were never close, especially not at that age. Such is the reality of being a prince: your parents may create you, but it falls upon others to do your rearing. I loved my uncle more than my own father.”
Sensing the weight of what was to come, I drew circles on his back with my fingers, offering a physical tether between us. He shuddered in response.
“One day, he suggested a trip to Hadria. It had been a while since my last visit, and he said it was time I learned more about the kingdom’s other half. My mother was hesitant, but Alphonse insisted it would strengthen me as a future king, and be a welcome reprieve from mourning the loss of my father.” His fists clenched, propped up on one of the observatory’s columns. “We traveled with a small retinue; a handful of guards, servants. We passed the time with songs and stories. He talked about his wife, long dead by then, and his struggles with raising Percy. He made it out as though I was his real son, and Percy was only a bitter disappointment.”
I imagined a younger Percy, raised by a father who hated him, his mother departed from the world. No wonder he’d loathed the prince.
Nicolas paled. “Three days into our journey, he sent the guards ahead to secure lodgings. We took a detour on-foot, walking through the woods near Kartova. My uncle said there was an old battlefield there, where our ancestors had fought alongside Hadrian allies many centuries ago. He led me deep into the forest, talking all the while about duty and sacrifice. He said that sometimes, we must make terrible choices for the good of the realm.” His voice hollowed. “Then I saw the rope in his hands.”
I met his eyes. “Nicolas…”
He continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “He told me the merger was a mistake, that Gallae was losing its soul to foreign influence. How my death would spark a war between the nations that would tear them apart, allowing true Gallaeans to rise and reclaim what belonged to them. He would return grieving, claiming Hadrian nationalists had killed his beloved nephew despite his best efforts to rescue me.
“I ran. He was older, stronger, but I was fast. He caught me by a ravine, nowhere left to go. There was a struggle, and he…” Nicolas touched his ribs unconsciously. “He had a knife. I thought I was going to die, but there was a rock, and when he lunged for me again, I…”
Nicolas looked as though he was reliving the moment, horror woven into every fiber of his being.
“He held me when my father died, but I killed him. I bashed his skull in with the stone and watched him bleed into the forest floor. The guards found me a few days later, half-dead from exposure and grief.”
His eyes were bright with unshed tears. I cupped his face in my hands. My heart broke for him, for the boy who’d been forced to kill the man he loved most.
Nicolas blinked the memory away, his voice steadying. “Now Duke Augustine comes, and I must know if he was aware of my uncle’s plans, if he participated in the conspiracy to have me killed…and if there is still a lingering movement for secession. I need you.”
“You have me,” I promised. Another request to do something damnable, but I felt no guilt this time. “I’ll uncover the truth.”
Nicolas made a desperate sound and pulled me in once more, this time crushing his mouth to mine. His hands framed my face, fingers tangling into my hair as if he needed to feel every part of me to know that I was real. The kiss was graceless and frantic, our breaths ragged as our teeth caught and our tongues collided.
He swayed with me, neither of us particularly balanced, and dropped a hand to hold me by the waist. I tasted salt, perhaps tears, as a tremor ran its course from his body to mine.
When he broke for air, his forehead pressed to mine.
“Oh, Alana,” he breathed against my lips. “You must be careful. The Banewights—”
“Yes,” I replied. “Your instinct to act disinterested in me around Taran was correct. He killed the witch who cursed me. If he discovers that I am the cursed child—”
“Belay that. If he or hisseekerscatch so much as a whiff of magic…” His eyes darkened. “Alana, he could have you killed. Burned alive. No, we should find another way. Something that doesn’t risk your life. This is madness.”
I gripped his sleeve. “I’ll be subtle.”
Nicolas rubbed his own arm, still visibly uncertain. “I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t.” I smiled. “I won’t use magic. I’ll find another way.”
He softened with relief. “And regarding the act? I tried to come across as though I was not madly in love with you,” he finished, shyly meeting my eyes. “I did not wish to rouse any suspicion, so I played the part of a prince reluctantly marrying a commoner. But you must know I adore you.”
I had known it, of course, but it was the first time he’d so frankly put it to words. My face flushed as I tried to master the way his confession rippled through me. “All right, charmer. Can we go somewhere warm now?”
Embarrassed, Nicolas obliged my request. He led me back down the stairs, the difference in temperature astounding. I felt my fingers prickling from the sudden change, an itch spreading throughout my extremities. I craved the warmth of my blankets,but as Nicolas tried to return me to my chambers, we both stilled at the sight of the queen at my chamber door.
Dierdre cleared her throat from across the hall. Queen Adelaide turned and crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as ever as she looked between her son and me.
Chapter 24
